


The Sun And The Rainfall

by flowersforgraves



Series: BTHB [28]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Old Injury, acquired disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Apparently that old "feeling the weather in your bones" adage isn't total bullshit.





	The Sun And The Rainfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jude_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jude_writes/gifts).



> Prompt from jude_writes via discord: chronic pain + Murphy
> 
> Card: [here on Imgur](https://imgur.com/VtOGzNh) // List of claimed prompts: [here on Tumblr](https://flowersforgraves.tumblr.com/post/184817489731/)
> 
> Prompt me via Dreamwidth or Tumblr!

His shoulder hurts, where he got shot. He really hadn’t understood that cliché of being able to feel the rain in your bones, but the scar -- bullet hole, iron burn, scratched and picked at incessantly -- aches, bone-deep and dull. He catches himself rubbing his arm sometimes, trying to work out the soreness and stiffness that never quite goes away, even as he watches Connor do the same thing with his leg. 

It had probably been the best possible thing to have done. They’re not stupid, they’ve done first-aid before -- hard not to, working in an abattoir and packing plant -- but gunshot wounds were beyond them. Still are, if he’s being honest, but they’re more prepared now than they’d been at the beginning.

“Looks like rain,” Murphy says cautiously.

Connor hums in agreement. He doesn’t take his eyes off the tv, still watching the baseball game, but he grips his jeans over the old scar. Murphy’s fingers tighten on his arm in sympathy. “Should probably put the plants out on the balcony.”

Murphy nods. The balcony is nothing of the sort, a shitty little ledge wide enough for both of them to sit on and nothing more. But there’s space enough for the Easter lily one of their more recent clients had brought, and the near-dead poinsettia they’re still nursing from Christmas, so the balcony it is. 

“Gonna go do that?” Connor asks after a long moment where neither of them move.

“Nah,” Murphy says, because he’s a stubborn, contrary asshole.

Connor lets out a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan. “Don’t know why I bother asking,” he mutters.

“Because you’re stupid,” Murphy tells him, “and you haven’t got it through your thick head that you’re not in charge.” He reaches over to ruffle Connor’s hair, and barely suppresses a wince at the sudden sharp pain in his shoulder. “‘S gonna be a bad storm, I think.”

Connor looks at him sideways, finally looking at him and not the tv. “Aye,” he says. “We’ll stay in tonight, eh?”

Murphy nods. Connor’s not in charge, really, but Murphy doesn’t usually care enough to have a fight about it. Tonight is no exception. “You want I should go get a six pack or something?”

Connor stretches his sore leg out with a low groan. “If you want. I’m not getting fucked up on alcohol. Baseball’s gonna put me the fuck to sleep.”

Murphy tugs Connor towards him. “Lazy motherfucker,” he chides. 

Connor lets himself fall against Murphy’s chest. “Says the one who won’t go put the plants out.”

“It’s ten steps! You can do that yourself.”

“I could make the same argument for you,” Connor points out. “Technically you’re closer.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Murphy mumbles.

His twin snorts, knowing full well he’s won. “I’ll take care of it after this inning.” His eyes are already sliding closed as he makes himself comfortable, elbows digging into Murphy’s ribs.

“Why are you so pointy?” Murphy complains. 

“‘S not my fault your ribs stick out,” Connor says. “You need to eat more.”

"Connor,” he says. This isn’t an argument he wants to have, and he knows Connor doesn’t really want to get into this now either. “Just shut the fuck up and watch the fucking baseball game.”

The soreness in his arm fades to a dull ache in the background as the Red Sox score another run.


End file.
